


Stay Awake

by CaptMickey



Category: Monkey Island
Genre: Brotp, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, because when you get beaten up you obviously go to a con artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 08:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptMickey/pseuds/CaptMickey
Summary: When a Mighty Pirate™ gets beaten up, a smiling salesman is the last person he intended to faint in front of.





	Stay Awake

His focus was coming in and out, gripping onto his side as he watched his feet go one step and then another while desperately swaying from side to side. Funny, Guybrush wasn’t expecting this to happen on Flotsam, and yet… part of him should have known that there were bound to be some locals that were still bitter with him and with what he’s done.

Who could blame him?

As he stepped back into town, Guybrush glanced up at the familiarly obnoxious neon sign that belonged to one plaid jacket, waving armed con artist slash lawyer slash God knows what else. That building, in particular, he could have sworn was shut down after the events of the Pox. 

And yet…

Stan stepped out of the building holding a box, placing it down to the side as he clapped his hands from any dust. He looked over when he heard footsteps and wondered who it would belong to, then quickly thinking which of his wares he could quickly auction off. But it took one glance to realize whose footsteps those belong to.

Time to pull out the ol’ Stan charm, the salesman thought as he adjusted his hat and coat and begun waving his arms while working his signature smile.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Guybrush Threep–” Stan’s smile quickly dropped as he looked at the disheveled sight. “Kid?”

Guybrush stepped into the light showing that he was barely standing. His face was slammed with various bruises, blood dripping from his nose and side of his mouth and possible the top of his head, but it was hard to tell with his blond bangs matted to his forehead. The usually confident and even warm smile Guybrush sported was notably absent and was replaced with him gripping his side breathing heavily, swaying in his spot.

“K-Kid, what happened?” Stan started to ask.

“Hiya, Stan…” Guybrush weakly greeted, wincing as he attempted to smile. “Turns out… I… I…” His grip lessened and his eyes rolled back as he fell forward towards the floor, his consciousness was slipping. 

It, surprisingly, didn’t take Stan too long to process what was happening and quickly moved to catch Guybrush just before he made contact to the floor. “H-hey, kid!” He shook him a bit and saw the faint hints of awareness in his eyes. “Threepwood? Hey! Just… just stay awake.”

Guybrush stared and all he could see was a frantic looking Stan before he slipped into unconsciousness. 

–

It was weird, the repertoire that Stan and Guybrush had was, at best, purely professional. They had little to nothing in common and the extent of his knowledge on the blond was exclusively based on either whatever antics he was on or word of mouth. Hell, his introduction was him trying to con him into getting a ship! 

He recalled that doe eyed eagerness the blond had when he first washed up ashore to Melee (it was such an easy con).

He recalled that cocky arrogance when he showed up on Booty Island at his coffin shop (it should have been an easy sell).

He recalled that confused but even delighted look when they ran into each other on Blood Island (how did he get out-scammed?)

He recalled the jumpy twitchy eyed blond as he stood in front of his sale in Jambalaya Island (was that a golden ring on his finger?)

He recalled facing off against him court and seeing all those years accumulated and that was just confidence radiating off of him (he felt… proud?)

He… recalled when word broke out that the blond died. He couldn’t bring himself to plan the funeral and instead left the island to find somewhere, anywhere, that was safe.

It was then he felt the blond stirring in his grip and relaxed just slightly.

“Wh…”

“Oh, you’re up.” Stan said. 

“Where are we…?” Guybrush slurred.

“Well Threepwood, I’m taking you back to your ship cause I don’t have the medical means to help you out at the moment and I’m pretty sure someone in that crew of yours should know what to do. Though it did spark an idea of what to sell next.” Stan said, a sly smirk was prominent on his face.

“Huh, that’s… nice…” Guybrush’s eyes drooped and his head began to hang low when he felt Stan adjusted him and give the blond a small shake.

“You can’t sleep yet, kid, I need you to stay awake.” The salesman dropped his act and looked stern. “Having you pass out initially already gave me a heart attack. Can’t have you passing out and bleeding in front of my shop, bad for business, y’know?”

“…Sorry.”

Stan stayed quiet, glancing at the beaten up pirate. He didn’t deserve it… even though Guybrush did manage to ruin most, if not all, of his schemes. “What happened?” He asked.

“Hmm…” His head drooped again and was shook again.

“C’mon, Threepwood, I need you up remember?”

“Well…” Guybrush took in a sharp breath. “Bunch of… Flotsamites were… were still mad about the whole… pox thing. Decided to take it out on… on me…”

Stan winced.

“A Tuesday for me, really.” Guybrush tried to laugh but instead winced in pain. “Laughing… laughing bad.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be alright, Guybrush.” Stan reassured, spotting the Narwhal anchored and smiled in relief. 

“Hey… Stan?” Guybrush looked at the salesman.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… you’re… you’re not a bad guy.” Guybrush smiled.

“Yeah, well…” He spotted the crew looking worried before a portly man catching the two and rushing down the plank. “You’re not a bad guy either, kid.” 


End file.
